


Midnight Meetings

by Blitzdrake



Series: Supernaturally Voltron [1]
Category: Supernatural, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hunk - the Angel, Hunter families, Keith & Shiro & Thace are Takashi's, Lance the demon, M/M, Major character death...but it wont stick, Or not, Pre-Slash, and Keith is totally thinking about it, but a good demon, let's make a deal, like does death ever stick in the Supernatural verse, like literally - Freeform, nothing happens but Lance totally wants a piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blitzdrake/pseuds/Blitzdrake
Summary: An picture to show who seeks them,An animal bone to hold them in thrall.Find a Crossroads to bury these things,And a box to hold it all.If you seek your heart's desire,At Midnight place your call.They can grant you your heart's desire, if you are willing to pay the Price.Keith knew the rules, he'd been hunting the supernatural all his life.  But he'd never been tempted, never understood what could tempt someone to do something so stupid as sell their soul. Not until he was facing a lifetime without his brother, a lifetime of living with the guilt that Shiro died saving him, did Keith finally understand. So here he was, down one half a bottle of whiskey, one photo, and one cat bone courtesy the local pet cemetery (Sorry mittens) and he was ready to trade his eternal soul for a chance to bring his brother back. And who should answer the summons?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finally putting some of the thoughts I've had for a fun Supernatural setting for the Voltron characters into reality. A bit angsty at the start, and slightly OOC Keith, considering he's mourning and slightly drunk.

The numbing fog of half a bottle’s worth of whiskey worked its way through Keith’s veins.  It dulled the pain in his head from too many nights of tossing and turning, the stab behind his eyes reduced to a low throb.  It eased the hunger of too many forgotten meals, the growl of his stomach now a low rumble.  It even managed to silence the nagging protests in his head, voices such as Shiro’s, their father, Thace's, and every other hunter he’d ever worked with.  The internal cacophonies and warnings in his mind were all muffled to a soft complaining whisper, telling him what a stupid, stupid, stupid idea this was.  All of this the alcohol helped with, but it did nothing to ease the ache in his heart reserved for his brother.  The memory of Shiro, bleeding out in his arms, his brother’s face pale and wan. For a moment that had torn the foundations of Keith’s life asunder, it was unfair that in his final moments Shiro had seemed at peace, satisfied that his last act on this earth he had succeeded in killing the demon Sendak, sealed the gates of Hell, avenged their parents and ensured his little brother’s safety.

 _It was so fucking unfair that it was Shiro and not me!_   Shiro was the good son. The one with a future, the one going off to college and then to serve his nation, while his brother and father chased after monsters in the dark.  Shiro was the war hero who’d stepped away from his long dreams of service the instant Thace had gone missing.  Given up his future to take care of Keith, because Keith couldn’t set aside the family quest for vengeance and hunting the things that go bump in the night.  And because Shiro had come back into the fold, back into hunting, he’d landed himself right in Sendak’s crosshairs. And sure enough, the demon showed up, wearing their father as a meatsuit and giving long winded speeches about opening the gates of Hell and Destiny and Zarkon the fallen Angel being set free.  It was because Keith hadn’t been able to let the search for their dad go, that Shiro had been there to take the blow meant for Keith, had fought with Sendak at the Hell Gate, and died at its entrance, his soul taken along with Sendak into the Pit.  If anyone on this earth deserved a chance to go to a peaceful rest, it was Shiro.  He should have gone to it gently, after falling in love, decorated for his service, having raised kids and grown old. His body should have been laid to rest in a military graveyard with full honors, visited by friends and loved ones, his soul far from the reaches of those monsters.  Instead he got a nameless backwoods hunter’s burial alongside their father, the only exception being, Keith hadn't bothered with salting and burning the body.  He could spare Shiro that one indignity from the life he’d tried to leave behind.  Why bother anyway, there was no chance of Shiro’s ghost coming back, not when his soul was in Hell, suffering in place of the brother that deserved to be there.  Leaving behind with the burden of carrying on the Takashi name till it one night, alone, on some future hunt. 

Which was why Keith was here, at a Crossroads, his head swimming in just enough alcohol to numb the hurt to the point he could focus on doing something that went against every instinct and lesson he’d ever been taught.  It gave him the liquid courage to stand here and _for once in your damned life, do the right thing_ , _Keith.  For once, Shiro gets to be put first, gets a chance to finally live his life without worrying about our crazy family crusade.  Gets the normal life he deserves._

With a silent prayer, not too drunk to miss the ridiculous irony of uttering a prayer to a being he didn't believe in while consorting with the very opposite kind of creature, Keith piled dirt back into the nondescript hole in the center of the Crossroads and stepped back to wait.  While he’d never done this himself, he was familiar with the rules.  Center of the crossroads, bury a box, filled with an animal bone and a photo of himself.  He’d chosen a picture with Shiro and himself at some nameless motel table, Shiro pouring over a book while Keith idly sharpened a knife, a photo that could have been taken at any one of the hundreds of motels that filled their childhood as their father chased whispers and sightings across the country.  The photo was a deliberate choice, a prod to his courage and a reminder of why he was doing this, that he was fixing the mistake he’d made in letting Shiro come back and giving his brother that chance at normal he’d held himself back from for so long. Held back because he was, always looking out for his little brother.  A life he’d delayed until Keith was 18, convinced that as an adult Keith would leave with him.  Keith hadn’t wanted that out though, hadn’t wanted to give up the life of hunting, the outlet for his anger and his selfish chance to be the hero of his own story. And when he'd said as much, Shiro had almost decided to stick with it too, out of obligation to guard his little brother, but Keith had convinced him to take the out. To accept the ROTC offer, go to college, build a future with friends and school and service. Only to drag Shiro back from that future the minute things got hard.  Drag him right into the path of Sendak and Hell Gates and eternal damnation in Keith’s’ place. 

Keith’s introspection was interrupted by a whispering hiss, like steam escaping a closed room, and tendrils of red smoke swirled from the earth, coalescing into a thick cloud, and suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore.  Leaning against an old wooden fence that lined one side of the crossroad, a tall, well taller than Keith at least, demon took form from the cloud. It was an attractive one, but that wasn’t surprising. In the years of hunting, Keith had never known a demon to voluntarily walk around in an ugly meat suit. If their original body wasn’t good enough, or was too damaged, they always managed to get their hands on an upgrade. It seemed like the type of people who ended up going demon were always themselves possessed of unfairly, or unfairly possessed someone having, good looks and a style.

A devilish, of course, smile sat above a sharp chin, all below slicked-yet-soft-looking brown hair, and deceptively friendly brown eyes. A too-small, to the point of being almost cute, pointed nose jutted out from the middle of the long, symmetrical face. The combination was enough to catch Keith’s attention, before he pulled away from the heated stare to give a habitual check of the demon’s body for dangers.  There were no visible weapons, other than the disarming sex appeal that the damned usually came armed with.  But Keith was distracted again as his check led him to taking in the slim, tall build, which drew attention to a pair of very appealing long legs…or maybe that was the skin tight jeans doing the attention drawing. A blood red button up shirt and dark grey vest hugged a sinfully trim stomach and hips, only to have the portion of the shirt that peeked above the vest, buttoned only halfway before left open all the way to the throat and narrow shoulders, showing off soft, tan skin, blemish free of course.  Demons could make a killing if they ever marketed their skin care routine at a more reasonable price than one’s eternal soul.   

Keith was no stranger to ogling attractive men, he’d gotten fairly good at getting the most out of a long look or two.  Especially since looking was all he’d ever had time for in his life. Most hunters chose not to forsake the little pleasures in life, something to make the hunt worthwhile or release stress. But the Takashi’s were not like most hunters. They didn't need more than the hunt, or so his father had raised him to believe. Perhaps he’d be better at picking companions up or smooth talking and charming, if he’d been able to build up those skills in high school years like most kids. But with all the school hopping while his dad was chasing cases, and with eventually getting into working the cases himself, he’d never had the time or inclination to practice the building blocks of dating, those awkward first kisses, note passing, hand holding, or behind the bleacher fumbling. He'd been denied the opportunities available to most kids in schools.  Hell if it wasn’t for porn, Keith probably wouldn’t even know what happened after hand holding, let alone have garnered enough second-hand knowledge from the internet to know for sure that he was gay, and exactly what kind of guy he was most into.  And this demon was very much that kind, or at least the body he was wearing was. Keith tried not to think about the fact that this may or may not be the demon’s original body, it might be some poor, yet admittedly gorgeous sap who’d been snagged because he was close to the Crossroads, hot, and not wearing any anti-possession protection.  However he came across the form, it did not disappoint and Keith took longer than he would normally grant himself to enjoy the view, admiring the demon in a blatant manner he’d never used before with one of the hellspawn, or even on a regular person. Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, more than he’d ever allowed himself to drink, all in his quest to get drunk enough to disregard every lesson he’d ever learned.  Or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in his life he wasn’t afraid of being ambushed while distracted or having his intentions landing him in a situation he didn't have the social skills to handle. After all this was a demon so no worry of romantic complications, and as it was here by invitation and bound to the rules of the Crossroads  there would be no need to unleash an exorcism or fend off an attack. Even if things went sour, what was the worst the demon could do? Certainly nothing worse than what Keith wanted of him, a ticket to eternal damnation in exchange for his brother’s life.

So Keith stared and tried to enjoy what might very well be the last lusty look of the undamned part of his life.  For his part the demon basked in the attention, crossing his arms just above the vest and below the unbuttoned portion of his shirt, before leaning back into the post even further, drawing attention to the length of his legs and frame. His friendly smile turning into a smirk as he returned the favor, blatantly moving his head up and down to make the slow path of his stare obvious. When he’d looked his fill, the demon returned to staring at Keith’s face and uncrossed his arms spreading his hands, palms out at his side in a suggestive shrug, as if to say  _what next?_   The moment stretched from heated to awkward as Keith realized he had no idea if the demon was waiting for something on his end.  Was there was some part of the ritual the other hunters and lore hadn’t shared?  Was he supposed to open the negotiations with a ritual greeting?  A spell? His face must have shown his obvious confusion because the demon at last broke the silence with a low chuckle.

The demon stood straight, pushing away from the fence in a fluid move as his hands slipped to clasp each other behind his back. With a roll of his hips and shoulders he stepped forward, moving to begin a slow, appraising circle around Keith, who was all to aware it was meant to be a predatory motion, like a hunting shark. When he finally spoke, after an almost full turn, the voice was as smooth and rich as his skin, with a hint of accent under the tones that Keith couldn’t immediately place.

“Huh...I gotta say, if you’ve come to make a Deal, I hope it’s for a better haircut. I could understand someone being willing to give up their soul to get rid of that mullet and I don’t think there’s much I could to improve on the rest of the…package.” The demon grinned at his own joke, looking down at Keith’s crotch before looking back up with a wink.

Keith glared, one hand going up to the back of his head defensively.

“Well…touchy about the hair then," the demon's smirk lost some of its aggressiveness and turned teasing and he continued his circling walk, "I’d suggest you sell your soul for a sense of humor then, but that’s more a self-help book and therapy sessions than a,” the demon paused to wave his hands and wiggle his fingers in a mockery of a spell casting gesture, “Deal kind of thing.  So what is it then, buddy? Money?  Power? Fame?  A best-selling novel with an Oprah’s book of the month sticker on the cover?  I hope it’s not an Oscar for best actor, cause I gotta tell you I’ve done that at least three times in the past six years, and I’m tired of stealing them from DiCaprio. Man's to pretty to not get an honest chance to win one….or make a Deal with us to guarantee he wins it.” The demon cut off with a chuckle at his own joke, before sighing at Keith’s blank stare.  “Really, wish we could do the sense of humor Deal for ya man, and throw in some pop culture, ‘cause seriously you need it.  Or…to get laid.  That might get a smile out of you.  Oh,” the demon stopped circling right in front of Keith again and moved into his personal space, an excited smirk on his face, “please tell me you’re here to make a Deal to get laid, or love, or whatever.  I’ll be happy to go above and beyond in providing customer service in granting that. Might even be convinced to toss in a freebie,” the demon leered at Keith before winking again. "And if your one of those hunters who worries about consent, I promise, this," the demon motioned, running his hands from his sides, down his own hips, pausing suggestively at the groin before continuing to the thigh, "this here is all mine. No unwilling passengers. Just me," he paused, running a long finger from his throat down the exposed chest before stopping in a sultry pointing motion at his heart, "and you." His hand extended, one well manicured finger planting on the center of Keith's chest. 

The demon's touch finally broke Keith’s stunned confusion, years of hunter instinct kicking through even the alcohol-muddled daze of lust, at the invasion of his personal space by a supernatural monster. With a lightning fast grab Keith hooked a hand into oneside of the demon's splayed open shirt, feeling a faint shock of heat when his knuckles brushed the smoothed tan skin.  His fingers curled into the cloth, idly noting it was silk because why would a demon wear anything cheap, and yanked the demon toward him, lowering his hip and lifting it underneath the demon’s to send his opponent up, over, and to the ground on its back. Keith followed him down, planting a knee on either of the demon's hips to box it in. One hand crashed against the demon's chest to steady himself and stun his opponent, while his other reached behind his hip for a knife.  In a smooth motion he flicked it out of the sheath and around, resting it against the demon’s neck, close enough that it was clear he could cut deep before the demon teleported away. The blade was its own threat, silver edged and inscribed with a collection of Sumerian glyphs for sharpness and lethality, it wouldn’t kill a demon but it would hurt like hell and likely kill the body. And if this was the demon’s actual original body as it claimed, or even if it was just one he was particularly fond of, which by the way he was showing it off, he was, then the threat of forcing the demon to go shopping for a new one, might slow it down. Might make it pause before acting dangerously.  Which was what Keith needed, for the damn demon to slow down, stand still, and shut up so Keith could collect his thoughts, scattered by grief, alcohol, and arousal as they were.

For a wonder it worked.  Well, half-worked. The arrogant smirk fell from the demon as he tried to crane his neck to look down his body towards the knife with wariness. He spread his hands to the side, palms up in surrender.  But he didn’t stop talking altogether. “Ok so…clearly you don’t want me to be proactive, but come on dude. You aren’t exactly helping here.  I’m here because you called, so I could meet your demands. But you got to give me something to work with. And there’s no need to break out the threats for that. You Summoned me, I came. I’m here for all your soul-selling, wish fulfilling needs, so just ask already, unless…," the demons expression turned sly, "you don’t really want to make a Deal after all?”

And there was the rub wasn’t it.  Keith felt ashamed of himself and embarrassed that his reluctance was so obvious that even a demon had picked upon it.  Of course he didn’t want to make a Deal, no one who actually knew about demons and the consequences of Deals, namely death-by-hellhound, would want to make  one.  But it wasn’t about what he wanted.  It was what he deserved.  And he deserved to be there in Hell, in Shiro’s place.  Shiro hadn’t hesitated when it came to sacrificing himself for Keith and here Keith was getting cold feet and letting a demon talk circles around a Takashi instead of just manning up and doing the right thing.

“Fine,” Keith growled and when the demon flinched, Keith realized his tensing had pressed the blade tighter. He breathed and deliberately relaxed his grip and frame, drawing the blade back as he stretched his supporting arm to put more distance between them. He needed the demon to stick around until the bargain was struck at least. “I…I want to make a deal to bring someone back.  Back from Hell.”

The demon froze up, his eyes ghosting solid red and his lips turning downward into a frown. Just as quickly the demon caught himself, and his eyes faded back to normal though his expression took on a sickly smile and even the ghost of confidence he’d managed while under the knife had vanished from his voice. “Ok.  Ok.  I can work with that.  Yeah….that’s…that’s not an unusual thing. Happens all the time. Though I gotta tell you, fair disclosure and all, if they were sent to hell, giving them a few extra years on earth probably won’t be enough to help. You’d be surprised at how hard it is for people to give up the kind of lifestyles that get you killed. Or damned. You can try Interventions, true love, distractions and support from friends and loved ones, all that bull crap, but sometimes its not enough. Heck, you'd think just experiencing Hell a few days would be enough, but for some reason it never is. Some people are just inherently self-destructive or bad.”

Keith couldn’t believe he was getting counseling and pity from a demon and even worse, they implied, _they dare imply Shiro wasn't worth it!_ He felt the rage that had haunted him throughout his life, driving him to violence and hunting when the better brother rose above.  It had dogged his heels, from school ground fights, Shiro had saved him from, to bar room brawls where his father and brother intervened with the police. And of it was of course the fire inside that had carried him through life and death battles with the monsters. It was strong and burning, and even the drunken haze in his veins was boiled out, in a flash of focusing ire.  _Shiro was not bad.  There wasn’t a single bad bone in his entire fucking body.  Shiro was everything good about the Takashi name, everything that was redeemable and right. It was his family, us that dragged him down, and with us gone, there’ll be nothing to hold him back from living the perfect, great life he deserves._ No one insulted his brother, especially not some hell-spawn salesman.

The knife pressed against the demon’s neck again and Keith took a vicious satisfaction in seeing blood well up.  Took a heated, dark joy at the blemish he’d carved into that _perfect skin_. The punishment he'd inflicted, and the obvious pain and discomfort welling up in those brown eyes. He’d marked the fucker as a reminder not to insult a Takashi. A point he was going to drive home, as he channeled every ounce of the killer and hunter he was into his glare. He leaned down into the demon’s personal space, reducing the distance between them to inches before speaking in a heated, furious voice. “My brother, was the best man to ever walk this earth.  He was a god damned hero who never did a bad turn or even think a bad thought to someone who didn’t deserve it.  The only reason he’s in Hell is because of me. He DESERVES a second chance.  He deserved more than a short life and an unmarked grave. And no fucking demon is gonna sit here and tell me that Shiro Takashi deserves to be in Hell.”

With the distance so close, Keith could actually see in finer detail than he’d ever experienced in his life, the demon-eye-change, the transition as the demon's brown iris and the whites of the eye were swallowed whole by the crimson swirls of color surging outward from the pupil. The effect was even starker as the eyes widened in obvious fear. Keith heard the demon manage to croak out, in an almost horrified whisper, made soft by the lack of space between blade and throat, “Did you say…Tak-" the demons shoulders shuddered, as his throat scraped along the blade to speak, "Takashi.  Oh fuck.  Fuck.  You’re a Takashi? Of course you’re a fucking Takashi. And you want…Oh Hunk you fucking….what did you drag me into?”

“Hunk?” Keith leaned back, pulling the knife with him in his shock as he sat up, “did you just call me a hunk? Did I scramble your brains loose with just a nick? I already told you what I’m dragging you into.  A Deal.  A demon Deal, the kind you make all the time. You get my brother Shiro Takashi out of Hell, where he DOESN’T BELONG, and bring him back to me now. And in ten years you get my soul signed and sealed for your doggie delivery service to pick up.”

“Shiro Takashi, you want me to bring back….” the demon’s eyes just widened further, the red staying present and his face contorting into a horrified, but somehow still attractive, grimace. Stupid fucking supernatural sex appeal. The hands which had been relaxed were now running through the demons hair as he pushed  his head backwards into the ground, stretching his  chin upwards, the red smear of blood exposed, to stare up past Keith at the sky, and he cursed. “Fuck you all…” then he turned looking back at Keith and one hand flew towards him pointing, “You think I could bring back Shiro Takashi, for a Ten year contract Deal?  Are you serious?” Keith felt his stomach twist.  He should have known.  Takashi was too famous a name in hunting.  He’d worried going in that it was going to take more than just a regular Deal to bring his brother back.  He’d hoped he’d get ten years, but he’d prepared himself for worse.  That’s what the bottle of whiskey had been for after all, bracing himself.

“Fine….five years.”

When the demon didn’t change his expression, Keith bit back the bite of fear as he negotiated away his chances to make the most out of his last years.  His opportunity to finally slow down and meet people, make friends that weren’t fellow hunters, maybe even meet a fellow traveler, and if he got lucky try some of those things he’d seen on the internet. Travel to see the Grand Canyon, learn his brother’s secret for making noodles, see all those movies with family and friends, do all the normal things that Shiro had wanted them to do, to re-earn that proud brotherly smile. Maybe take them both overseas to see the places his brother had told him stories about, but he had always been too busy to see for himself.  There was a list, made over the weeks since Shiro’s death, a list of all the things Shiro had wanted for him or mentioned even in passing, or even things he'd wondered about himself when the cases were light and his mind could wander. A list he’d finalized when he finally realized a Deal was his only chance to fix things. It was a list of things he’d wanted to experience, things Shiro, had begged him to experience, it was going to be his promise to his brother to fill over the next however many years he had before they came to collect.  A chance to live the life Shiro had wanted for them both.  And now his family’s damn name and all the hunting he’d done when Shiro had begged him not to was going to cost him even the time to go through that list.

“Three…” Keith said, mentally crossing more items off the bucket list in his head as impossible in that short time frame, but his voice showed none of the quavering sick feeling that gripped him inside.  Shiro hadn’t shook.  Shiro hadn’t wavered when it came time to save Keith.  Shiro hadn’t even hesitated for a second, Keith owed him no less.

“I told you-“ the demon started and Keith could see the 'no' in his red, fearful eyes and spoke over him in a rush.

One….uh…one year for me and you get my soul.  Keith Takashi’s soul.  Come on, you guys have to know I’m the better deal.  Shiro barely hunted in his entire life.  It was my dad and me that did all the dirty work.  Without us he won’t even go back to hunting. There have to be demons I’ve sent back down there dying to get their claws into me.”

That seemed to break though the demons horror, because the red film vanished from is eyes and for a second a look of something that on a normal human would almost be concern crossed his expression before resignation replaced it. “Just stop dude, it’s not a matter of…contract length.”

“Then no time, straight up trade.  You take me right now, I won’t even ask for a chance to say goodbye when you set him free. Just say we have a deal, kiss me, and BRING HIM BACK.” By the time Keith had finished the knife was on the ground and both of his hands had slipped up to tightly grasp silk covered shoulders to disguise their trembling.

It’s not-” the demon growled in frustration as his palms planted on the ground and he lifted himself up into a sitting position, pushing into Keith’s personal space, forcing Keith to sit back on his knees, right in the demon's lap. For a wonder they were both clearly to upset to comment or notice. "It’s not a matter of contract length. No Crossroads demon, not even a regular demon that might want to get their claws on you for a personal vendetta, has the power to make that Deal.”

“But-“ Keith wanted to continue, but the shock had stolen his resolve.  He’d never heard of a demon refusing a Deal before.  In the daze, for the first time since he’d picked up a blade and joined his father on Hunts, a demon escaped his hold.  The demon scooted backwards, out from between Keith’s legs, inching away till he ended up at the edge of the crossroads, legs splayed across the ground and his back shored against the same fence post he’d appeared at before.

Looking resigned and more human than Keith had ever seen a demon appear before, the demon shrugged from his sitting position. “Feel free to believe me or not, but I’m telling you now, no one’s going to make that Deal with you. No one’s going to be the demon dumb enough to set Sendak’s killer free.”

“I-I, it should have been me.  I should be the one to kill him.  It was supposed to be me. I should be there and he should be up here.  He didn’t even want this life, he was out of it.  He just came back to keep me safe,“ Keith couldn’t think of anything more to say, couldn’t believe he’d said that much.  He never shared with anyone, but tonight was apparently a night for firsts.  Keith Takashi gets up close and personal with a hot male. Keith Takashi breaks a lifetime of hunting tradition and codes. Keith Takashi opens up and talks feelings. A Takashi gets sympathy from a demon, and a willing human soul was turned down for a Crossroads Deal. And none of those shocks was as overwhelming as the fact that this had been his last chance.  His Hail Mary pass.  His final hope for fixing the glaring cosmic fucking error that had sent the wrong brother to Hell.

“I,” and the demon’s face twisted up a second in discomfort as he raised one hand and rubbed the back of his neck, “look, I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you a Deal. And I don’t mean that in a nefarious, hand waving, twirl a mustache, aww shucks I lost a soul way.  But…take it from someone who’s an actual expert in how these life for a life Deals work out.  Even if I could have…you would have regretted it. Either you’d have resented him for it as time passed. He'd have done something to upset or fail you and make you realized he was wasting the chance you gave him. Or you would have come to hate him if he fell back into a bad habit. And worse he’d have resented you, hated you for taking his sacrifice in vane, for spitting in the face of fact that he gave his life for you.  You want to do right by him, you really want to pay him back or even out the karma imbalance or correct the scales of justice or whatever the fuck you believe in? Forget the Deal. Forget getting him back. You wanna make this right, then stop trying to die for your brother and live for him instead.”

“Live for….” Keith surged off his knees and to his feet, his hands clenched into fists at his side and his face twisting back into the familiar anger, "How the fuck am I supposed to live for-. You don’t get to tell me how to honor my brother.  You don't know anything about sacrifice or honor, unless its how to twist it and take advantage of it in others. He was the one who knew how to live.  All I know how to do is kill. And if you can’t even play by your own playbook, maybe I should just deal with you by Takashi rules.” It only took a second to look down, spot the knife he’d dropped, and move for it.  But by the time he’d lunged for it and looked up again the sound of steam escpaing, whispered again, and the demon was gone, this ears telling him what to expect even before he saw the body fading into swirls of crimson smoke. Without hesitation he threw the knife, but it harmlessly sailed through the already fading particles of demonic essence, hitting the fence post directly behind where the demon’s heart would have been. With an angry shout to the sky Keith stomped over, planting a foot on the fence and yanking the knife free before heading back to the loose pile of dirt. He dropped to his knees cursing and digging, scraping his exposed fingers and the gloved palms against the dirt, determined to get his picture of Shiro and himself back. In his mind he was already planning his path on his bike to the nearest bar to finish the process of drinking himself into another restless nights sleep and then maybe a hunt, find a wendigo, or a werewolf, or better yet a demon, to feel something solid and evil suffer beneath his knife.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the rumble of the motorcycle faded, the demon reappeared, squatting in a hunched over squat to look at the deep indent the knife had left in his fence post. He reached out a finger and whistled.

Behind him a rustle of feathers sounded and he stood turning with a frown at the rounded friendly face of his…colleague?...ally?…parole officer? His...whatever, Hunk was overdressed, in a full charcoal grey suit and tie, which…who would wear that to a secret rendezvous? Though it did seem par for the course for angels.  They really went all in for the corporate board room look.

“So, Hunk, my ally, compatriot, friend…I can call you that right? After our close working arrangement, I thought we had some sort of friendly relationship going on. Something like friendship. Built up some trust. Certainly enough that when you told me at the last minute, that I absolutely had to be here tonight, on call, to intercept and refuse the next Crossroad Deal, I did it.  I had to pull trade a crap ton of favors to get Nyma to step out of the way and take over this call, she was next up after all.  And I got to tell ya, at first I actually thought you were doing me a favor, cause damn,” the demon whistled, putting on a false cheer as he sauntered closer, “when I popped out and saw Hotty McMullet, all I could think about was how sad I was you ordered me to intercept and refuse the Deal, cause those lips, hunk…those lips, I would have love sealing that Deal.”

By now Lance was right next to the angel and with infernal speed he grabbed his partner in crime and threw him into a headlock. “But maybe I was wrong.  Because a friend, a pal, hell even a co-conspirator would have probably fucking mentioned that the Deal you were sending me to intercept and refuse was Keith FUCKING Takashi. Did you want me dead?  Am I no longer useful enough to Heaven to keep  on tab, so you set me up to turn down a Takashi.  An armed Takashi? How did you know he wouldn’t bring that magic gun thingy his brother used to fucking gank Sendak? Hell he had a fricking knife that would have ruined my body.  And my body is a god damned temple Hunk.  I’m not gonna go around smoking into clunkers when I was gifted at birth with a top of the line classic.”

With unfair angelic strength, Hunk calmly grabbed each of Lance’s wrists in one of his own and gently, but inexorably broke Lance’s hold. He turned, keeping his hold on Lance's arms, and faced the demon. “We needed to make sure he was discouraged from bargaining. To ensure that, we had to make sure an agent we could rely on was there.  An agent we could trust.  And I do trust you.  We trust you.” The angels face was all well-meaning charm, but Lance wasn’t blind to the fact that the friendly smile and warm eyes, were hiding a multi-faced, dimensional-wavelength thing that was even farther from humanity than he was.  He at least had been human once, and not that long ago, while this thing had more in common to a star in the sky than a person. Granted Hunk, at least from the stories he'd told Lance, had spent centuries doing double duty on on Earth as often as in Heaven, time enough to pick up some of the local habits and lingo. But Lance had to remind himself that friendly demeanor and casual humanity of the angel, was a veneer an outer layer over a core that was pure soldier and loyal to it's Cause. A thing that wouldn't hesitate to risk itself or others in the name of that duty.

And then let the discomfort faded to irritation, because of course he'd been offered such a helpful explanation, sarcasm definitely intended. Another typically angelic answer and Lance noted yet again that he was an idiot if he expected more.  Still they worked together.  He’d actually been useful to the angels.  And they’d been useful to him.  It had been mutually beneficial thus far and a hell of a lot better than working for an outright backstabbing psychopath, see exhibit A, every demon with rank and power in hell that was interested in Lance's service. At least an angel would stab him in the front if it came to that. But the best plan was to avoid all stabbing, which apparently going to be difficult if Hunk wasn't going to give him some kind of warning about what he was getting into. So he sighed and tried again, pushing as much disarming charm as he could into his voice, for all the good it would do, which against an angel, even one that liked him as Hunk did, was little good at all. "But why did you need me to be the one to meet him to guarantee a no, anyway?  You heard what he wanted, I assume you knew it from the start.  No demon was going to grant him that.  No demon has the kind of clout to overrule Haggar. She wanted Shiro and now she has him.”

Hunk frowned and Lance could tell he was about to get another of those vague angel responses, the answer-without-answering type, which were about as useful as a wooden bat against a ghost. Then Hunks frown faded to a sheepish smile and he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, forthrightly for once, "We needed to make sure he wasn’t tricked into some other deal,” Hunk replied and miracle of miracles, he continued without needing Lance's prompting.  Perhaps he really did feel guilty for not giving Lance some warnings? “He’s not stable right now and a less scrupulous demon might have tried to distract him, maybe offer up his father’s return for the Deal, or take advantage of his inebriated state to convince him he was bargaining for Shiro but give him something else.  Worse, had it been anyone else, someone we couldn't trust," and Hunk shot a sympathetic, pleading for understanding look, "then word would have gotten to Haggar that Keith was going to Crossroads. That he was so desperate and unhinged that she might be able to set a trap for him and catch him unawares. This way, he stops painting a big target on himself and moves on.”

“Yeah good luck with that,” Lance bit out, “he looked like he was totally ready to move on. I’m pretty sure I just knocked him BACKWARDS a stage in the whole 7 grief steps thing, he's gone bargaining, straight back into anger. Or that could just be his default setting.” Lance shivered a moment recalling the look in Keith’s eyes when Lance had first tried to steer him away from the Deal, by accidentally insulting Shiro’s honor. Hunk looked apologetic and as a kindness Lance threw him a smirk he didn't really feel as he deflected with a joke, “Though…as ways to go, it was probably one of the hotter ones."

Speaking of hot, dude,” Hunk began, his face briefly flashing a grateful smile before it turned pained, a sure sign that Lance was about to be called on to do another favor and from the size of the puppy eyes accompanying that smile it was going to be a doozy. “Got the next job from upstairs.  You need to find Shiro.”

“Are you…..” Lance stared at the angel in disbelief, “you just got me to finish dashing his hopes and probably sending him on a super angry-but-somehow-still-sad…and sexy, can’t forget sexy…booze fueled supernatural murder spree. Risking my neck to do it, and don't think for a second your leaving without healing THIS," Lance pointed at the smear of red on his neck still slowly oozing blood.  The drawback, and one reason most demons lost their original body eventually, was one the soul was dead, the body didn't heal on its own anymore. He still bore the claw marks on his legs and back from when the hellhound had chased him, and the teeth marks on his hip where it had latched on and dragged him down. Those he hadn't bothered to have Hunk heal, not even sure Hunk could since they were etched beneath his skin and on what tatters still remained of his soul. But the neck thing, that was new and not his fault and Hunk owed him. Hunk nodded, reaching up and placing a hand on Lance's neck, light flaring beneath his palm and fingertips before pulling it back. Lance ran one hand on it, before nodding in reluctant gratitude, "That's better. But still, what was that all even Deal-no-Deal shit for if you were going to  arrange an angelic jailbreak anyway?  And I know that’s what this is.  You guys don’t exactly do conjugal visits down to hell or I’m sure I’d have gotten at least a few from some of your more worldly compatriots. With an ass this good even Heaven couldn’t pass up a piece.” Lance tried to bite back the jealous feeling inside with blatant innuendo and humor, though the sharp look in Hunks eyes told him he hadn't succeeded all to well.  And why should he try to spare Hunk's feelings anyway? He had a right to be pissed. He’d been doing favors for Heaven pretty much since the day his contract expired. Probably seconds after stepping off the rack he'd started trying to redeem himself from that awful decision, from every step he'd taken wrong after his own attempt to do the ‘right thing,’ resulted in fiery versions of Fido showing up to drag him to Hell. Where was his guardian angel to set up a demonic intervention at the crossroads back when he was a scared kid with a toy shovel and a lunchbox filled with animal bones and a school yearbook photo? Just trying to fix his family and sure this the old story he'd read in a creepy book was the only way. Where was his grand rescue as he lay under the knife of the rack holding out against the offer to give in, to sit up off the rack and pick the knife up and move to another soul to pass it on?  Apparently you had to be supernatural hunting royalty to get attention from above, in spite of all that meek shall inherit, god is watching us, children are beloved unto him, party line bull shit.  

“Yes Lance,” Hunk picked up the conversation after Lance had spent a little too long wallowing in jealousy and anger. "We have to get him free and we have to do it fast, like before Haxus finishes with him and convinces him to pick up a blade, fast.”

“Haxus?” Lance turned a sickly green, the anger fading in a rush of fear as he remembered his own time at the hands of the torture expert, embarrassingly and shockingly brief as his experience was.  “You want me to sneak into Haxus’s domain and…lead an army of angels through?  Do you know what he’ll do to me if he catches me out? If he figures out I'm working with you, or even if he just thinks I'm interfering in his fun. And that’s before he hands me over, or whatever is left of me, to Haggar.”

Hunk looked vaguely sad, but nodded just the same.  Not that Lance should be surprised.  Hunk was a decent guy, for an angel, but at the end of the day he was still one of Heaven’s little soldiers which meant yes, he knew the risk, but no it didn’t matter.  Hunk didn’t even care if HE died in Heaven’s name, he certainly wouldn’t overrule a superior for the sake of a demon.

“Fine,” Lance said with a sigh, his shoulders drooping as he moved away from the angel and turned once gain to look at the fence post with its deep indentation. “I’ll do it.  The guy probably deserves it, judging by all the crap his brother was shouting. If he’s worth an army of angels going into Hell to save him, and Mr. Sexy Supernatural Serial Killer was willing to toss his soul for the dude, I guess it goes without saying he’s worth more than my hide too.”

Hunk frowned but didn’t contradict him.  Not that Lance was expecting it. He knew the exact value of his soul, he’d already gotten fair value out of it in one Deal and it certainly hadn’t appreciated in value during his stint in Hell. He didn’t bother waiting for Hunk to figure out a polite spin to put on the order or muster up some kind of misplaced angel guilt for doing his job, but somehow not being able to do it in a way no one got hurt or was in danger. With another look at the fence post, Lance tried not to appreciate the irony that Keith was getting his Deal after all, without even having to pay the damn price.  Lance hadn’t even gotten a kiss out of it.  Life was so damned unfair.


End file.
